


sunday best

by transjamesbarnes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Light Dom/sub, M/M, Rimming, like thats essentially the fic, ur welcome tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 02:52:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5400176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transjamesbarnes/pseuds/transjamesbarnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We playin' it like that, huh?" he asks, and Bucky grins, sharp, leans down to bite down slowly, hard enough to force a noise out of Charlie.</p><p>"What's'it matter to you, Charlie boy?" he asks, shoving him away but keeping his skin between his teeth, and Charlie winces at the pinch of pain. "You just gotta do what I say, sugar."</p>
            </blockquote>





	sunday best

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brosillustrated](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brosillustrated/gifts).



> this was a gift to tumblr user brosillustrated, bc of their inspiring tags on this gifset:  
> http://brosillustrated.tumblr.com/post/128385473396/dezlet-his-outfit-says-church-boy-but-his
> 
> their tags were claiming that bucky should actually be the one sitting on faces, and i vehemently agreed. and lo, this was born.

The bells are ringing out the sound of mass being over when Bucky leans up against a neighbouring building and waits for Charlie to sidle up to him, the way he does every Sunday.

"Heya, Bucky," a voice behind him says, a southern drawl that's familiar to him, and he looks over his shoulder, tilts his mouth up in a corner.

"Charlie Waters," he says, reaches out and tugs Charlie into him, an arm over his shoulder and the other hand on his chest. "You comin' over?"

Charlie looks at him, tugs his cap down over his forehead, and Bucky grins.

"You betcha," he says, and Bucky lets him go, knocks their shoulders together amicably. "You know I wouldn't miss it."

They walk home slowly, chatting about the week apart and whatnot, avoiding the topic of the war that looms overhead like a dark cloud. Bucky swipes a handful of peanuts from a barrel at the market and he shares it between them as they make their way home.

When they get to Bucky and Steve's apartment, Bucky stomps up the stairs the way he usually does, leaving Charlie to tiptoe behind him, so their landlord doesn't go asking questions or come knocking.

As soon as they're through the door Bucky's on Charlie, pulling his cap off and tossing it behind them. He winds his arms around Charlie's neck and tugs him forward, walking them into the tiny kitchen, lets Charlie shove him up against the cupboards.

"Get out of this," Bucky mutters, pawing at Charlie's vest and shirt and Charlie shucks them right away, drapes them on the counter behind Bucky so he doesn't mess up his Sunday best too badly. "Lemme see you, c'mon."

"Fuck," Charlie grits out, unbuttons Bucky's shirt and slides it down his arms. Bucky lets his mouth fall open, eyes fluttering as Charlie mouths at the sensitive skin under his jaw. "You gonna let me, huh, Buck? You're gonna let me take you up, make you cry?"

"Yeah," Bucky gasps, nodding. He threads a hand through Charlie's auburn hair, tugs. "You'd better."

Charlie grins at him, pupils blown wide and head tilted back from Bucky's hand in his hair.

"We playin' it like that, huh?" he asks, and Bucky grins, sharp, leans down to bite down slowly, hard enough to force a noise out of Charlie.

"What's'it matter to you, Charlie boy?" he asks, shoving him away but keeping his skin between his teeth, and Charlie winces at the pinch of pain. "You just gotta do what I say, sugar."

Charlie smiles at him, smiles at the term, and Bucky walks him backward to the bed with gentle shoves and poking. The backs of Charlie's knees hit the bed and Bucky hears it shift a little.

"Lie down," Bucky says, leaning in for one more kiss as Charlie sits down and then lays back on the rumpled sheets. He climbs on over him, straddles Charlie's hips and dives in to kiss him again, mouths slick and hot. Charlie goes to hold onto his hips but Bucky grabs his wrists, pins them harshly to the mattress. He pulls back to look at Charlie and they pant at each other before Charlie rolls his hips up and Bucky growls, grinds his wrists harder into the bed.

"Quit it," he snaps, and Charlie laughs, keeps laughing even when Bucky shuts him up with his mouth. "I said," Bucky reiterates, moving to place his knees over Charlie's hipbones. Charlie's brow furrows at the sharp pressure, all of Bucky's weight on him now, more of him pitched down onto Charlie's wrists. "Quit. It."

Charlie nods, eyes wide as Bucky leaves bruises on his shoulder with his teeth and lips.

"You're gonna lie back and lemme take what I want, won't you, dollface?" Bucky purrs, pressing their chests together and breathing Charlie's air. "Gonna give me e'rything I want, ain't that right?"

"Sure, Bucky," Charlie says, jerks when Bucky slides off his hips to straddle him again. "Whatever you want."

"'S right," Bucky says, nodding. He gives Charlie a sharp look that clearly says 'Stay.', and gets up off his wrists. Charlie flexes his arms, turns his wrists and watches as Bucky unbuttons his trousers and kicks them down his legs, leaving them in a pile at the foot of the bed. "You're gonna let me sit on your face, aren't you Charlie boy?"

Charlie's eyes widen and he nods, keeps his hands up above his head even as Bucky knee walks up the length of his body.

Bucky stops when his knees are bracketing Charlie's arms, sits back on his chest. He pauses, and Charlie's arms shift. Bucky tuts at him, reaches down to wrap his hand around Charlie's throat. He applies a bit of pressure and Charlie's eyes fall shut as his breath comes shorter.

"That's it, kid," he murmurs, letting go and moving until he's got his knees up around Charlie's ears, and he reaches back to spread his ass for Charlie's tongue. Charlie starts in at full force, tongue licking in broad strokes over his hole and perineum, and Bucky hums, wraps his hands around Charlie's wrists again.

Charlie points his tongue, makes Bucky's eyes close tight as he wriggles it around Bucky's hole.

"C'mon, Charlie," Bucky goads, rolling his hips. "Make it good."

Charlie answers with an unintelligible noise and scrapes his teeth lightly over his hole. Bucky jolts, hands tightening, and he drops his head, pants.

Charlie teases him, licking and sucking around his rim but not diving in yet, just barely catching his tongue where Bucky wants it most, and Bucky makes an aborted noise in his throat. He wraps a hand in Charlie's hair and tugs once, grinding down in a little circle in a wordless insistence that Charlie up the ante.

And Charlie does, pointing his tongue and pressing it in in a swift and surprising motion that makes Bucky tense up and a shiver slide down his spine. He hisses through clenched teeth as Charlie rims him for real, going at him full force now that he's got Bucky all riled up. Bucky, for his part, breathes deeply through his mouth, which is hanging open, slack and far too empty. His eyes squeeze shut when Charlie curls his tongue up inside him, and it's so much, so good, feels like he can't keep track of what he's feeling and doing anymore.

He knows he's opening and closing his mouth intermittently, making small gasping sounds and whimpering, but he can't stop, doesn't even find he wants to. Charlie does something, suddenly, swirling his tongue in circular motions as he pulls it out of Bucky's hole, and Bucky loses his balance, elbows giving out on him.

Charlie surges up immediately, almost as if he'd known Bucky'd fall apart right then, reaching up to push Bucky back up and then all the way over, until Bucky's laying on his back on the sheets.

"Charles Matthew Waters," Bucky says, tries to make it sound harsher than he feels, all languid and loose on the mattress, but Charlie clearly isn't buying it, if his grin is anything to go by. Bucky just points at him, drawing his eyebrows together in what he hopes is something akin to scolding, but probably just comes off as needy. "Get back to work."

Charlie seems perfectly fine with that order, judging by the way he leans in, thick hands on the backs of Bucky's pale thighs and pushing him near in half as he leans in to lick at Bucky's lips, not even really kissing him, and it's filthy, so fucking dirty and Bucky is writhing from it.

Charlie keeps his hands on the backs of Bucky's thighs, shoving them up and apart so Bucky can see Charlie's auburn hair and freckled forehead framed between his legs. He wants to reach down and tug at that hair, wants to smooth it down over Charlie's head, wants to connect every one of his freckles with his fingertips, wants to shake him by the shoulders and plead with him to keep going.

Charlie ends up continuing without Bucky needing to rattle him, though, and he does so with renewed vigour. He's acting like this is the greatest privilege he'll ever get, one that doesn't come around often, that he's got to cherish.

"C'mon, _God_ ," Bucky groans, hands hovering over Charlie's head for a moment, unsure. He ends up just placing his trembling, sweaty palms on his thighs, fingernails digging little crescents into the skin when Charlie does something especially good.

Charlie lifts his head, licks his lips around a smirk. "You can call me Charlie," he says, words slow and elastic in the way southern accents make them, and it takes Bucky a moment, trudging through the haze in his brain to understand. By the time he gets it, Charlie's laying his cheek against the soft inside of his thigh, eyebrow arched.

"Shut the fuck up, Waters," Bucky grumbles, smacking him lightly in the head, and Charlie just presses a smiling kiss into Bucky's skin. His big hands squeeze at Bucky's thighs, and he hikes them back up to get back at Bucky's hole, looser now and Bucky's going a little out of his mind with how good it is.

"I haven't even- _fuck_ ," he gasps, back arching up off the bed at a flick of Charlie's tongue. Charlie makes a noise like he wants to know what Bucky was saying, and Bucky drags his bottom lips through his teeth before continuing. "Haven't even touched myself yet, _God_ , Charlie, _please_."

"Get yourself off, then," Charlie drawls, voice muffled from where he's buried between Bucky's legs. "I ain't doin all the work."

Bucky huffs out a laugh, but it's cut off by a startled gasp and a yelp when Charlie bites him in the softest part of his left thigh, right under the curve of his ass. His hands curl into fists and relax as Charlie dives back in, flicking his tongue and wriggling it around inside Bucky's ass, and Bucky's waiting till he's close, wants to time it just right so he'll get one of the good ones.

He's panting, making little 'Unh, unh, unh,' noises with every quick exhale, and he seizes up and lets out a long, drawn out groan when Charlie pulls back and spits on him, right on his hole.

"What?" Bucky asks, breathless, hands curled into white knuckled fists up near his knees. Charlie responds by pressing his thumb against his rim. It pops in with enough pressure, the give sudden and surprising enough to make Bucky's whole body jerk. He doesn't press it in far, but he curls it, pulls against Bucky's rim a little as he slides it back out.

Bucky's getting close, he can feel it balling up in his stomach, and he's quivering, trembling and whimpering constantly now as Charlie keeps him wide open to his tongue and so close to the edge.

"Please, please, please, c'mon babydoll, c'mon," he pleads, eyes dampening, and Charlie seems to get that Bucky's about to come, because he moves his hands from the middle of Bucky's thighs to up near his ass, pushes him so he's lifted off the mattress, and Bucky just can't take it anymore. He grabs his dick, rubbing his thumb under the head between quick strokes, and he's gasping, panting, coming apart at the seams, and it's so good, so much.

He floats for a bit, settles back into his body to the sound of him saying "Thank you, thank you, thank you," to Charlie while petting his hair.

"It's my pleasure, sweets," Charlie says. His lips are red and wet, completely filthy and so, so hot. Bucky reaches out to pull him into a messy kiss.

"Lemme get you off, c'mon," Bucky slurs, and then works his jaw and blinks hard a few times to gather his wits. "Let me make you come, Charlie."

Charlie smiles at him, leans in to lick and bite at Bucky's throat as he starts to roll his hips against Bucky's thigh. Bucky tries to shove him up so he can get at Charlie's cock but he bats his hands away, grabs Bucky's wrist and brings it around to get Bucky to cup the back of his neck as he leans down and kisses him again. He comes like that, grinding against Bucky's leg and sharing Bucky's air.

"Jesus, Charlie," Bucky breathes, and Charlie cracks an eye open with a smile. Bucky can't help but smile back, but he smacks at Charlie's shoulder. "You came all over your Sunday best."

Charlie looks down at himself before he lets himself flop over onto his back at Bucky's side. He breathes for a moment, and then tilts his head towards Bucky, slants a smile his way.

"You're the best part of my Sunday's, you know that," Charlie says, and Bucky feels himself flush.

"Shut up," he mumbles, hiding his face in Charlie's shoulder. Charlie just grins at him, and they drift off lazily wrapped in each other.


End file.
